Memories on the Half Shell

My daddy was an oyster man. Oh, I don’t mean a fisherman who plies his trade harvesting sack after sack of fresh oysters from Louisiana’s Gulf waters, but rather, my dad was obsessed with eating them. Baked oysters, fried oysters, oyster stew, and oyster po’boys were all part of my dad’s oyster addiction, but if you want to know his favorite way of eating oysters, just read on.

Dozens of memories made. (All photos credit: George Graham)

When I was just old enough to appreciate the difference between fish sticks and trout Amandine, my father loaded me into his pickup early one Saturday morning and took me on an adventure. From my home in the small Louisiana town of Bogalusa, the city of New Orleans was just an hour away and a world apart. That day spent with my dad was my culinary epiphany; it was an awakening that sent me on the path of delicious discovery that I still walk to this day. Here’s the story in a nutshell, uh, half shell.

Once a month, my father visited a restaurant supply wholesaler to buy kitchen appliances and other provisions for his café, and on occasion, I tagged along. He was deep in thought that morning, and we barely spoke as we trucked along the 2-lane blacktop road that wound through Bush, over Money Hill, and into Mandeville. But when we started across the 26-mile long Causeway bridging Lake Pontchartrain to New Orleans, he started talking a blue streak.

As is usual in my family, the conversation soon turned to food. He began to rant about the high price of beef and other meats, and as he looked out across the lake and saw the crab boats motoring along their line of pots, he proclaimed he might change to an all-seafood menu. He asked what my favorite was, and I didn’t hesitate to volunteer my preference for fried shrimp, which I just knew would be on his new menu. Somewhere in the conversation, before we exited the bridge, he mentioned oysters, and I told him I had never eaten one of those slimy things, and couldn’t see why anyone else would either. With a tilt of his head and a snide little smile, he acknowledged my critique. And he decided on lunch.

We finished up at the supply store by mid-morning, and he drove a beeline to the French Quarter. My father parked the truck in the parking garage in the Monteleone Hotel and quickly ushered me onto the street. “Gotta beat the crowd,” he said, and we walked at a half-trot down Iberville Street to what I was about to find out was his holy shrine of deliciousness.

Felix’s Oyster Bar: I have arrived!

Scurrying by storefronts and shuffling past leisurely tourists, we stopped in mid stride. We had arrived. I wasn’t quite sure what this place was, why I was there, or why he was so anxious for me to see it. I surveyed the outside and what I saw with my untrained eye was just another dilapidated building with a neon sign that read Felix’s Restaurant. And then, I saw a big smile on his face. There on the sign along the bottom row, I read “oysters.”

Five decades later, I am now firmly convinced that while my father waited at the pearly gates to see St. Peter, he downed a couple of dozen of those salty wonders that he swore were never as good anywhere else but Felix’s Oyster Bar. His devotion to this little joint was borderline fanatical, and his passion for oysters is a bona fide obsession. And as I would come to find out, mine too.

He opened the glass door, and the cold air inside Felix’s Oyster Bar was a welcome relief from my forced “death march” down the scorched cement sidewalks of the Quarter. I looked to see what table he would pick out for us and was surprised when he motioned me to jump up on a stool beside him at the bar. Back then, it was okay for underage kids to sip a Roy Rogers at the bar, but even I was shocked that we were at the bar at 11:30 am. As you might have guessed, this was an oyster bar, and when I looked over the counter at the ice-filled metal bin stacked high with oyster shells, I knew it was an adventure I wouldn’t soon forget.

Fresh Gulf oysters on ice at Felix’s Oyster Bar.

Daddy got a bottle of Jax (it’s never too early with oysters), and I took a swig of my Barq’s. My father held up two fingers, and the man behind the counter went to work. Our shucker could dispatch a couple dozen fresh out of their shells before you could mix up your bowl of sauce. And speaking of sauce, my father had a particular combination that took full advantage of everything offered. It was always ketchup at the base, a bit of Blue Plate, a glob of horseradish, a shot of Worcestershire, a squeeze of lemon, and a dash or three of Tabasco–pungent to say the least. I took charge of my personal sauce detail and went easier on the hot stuff.

Oyster shuckers line the ice bins at Felix’s Oyster Bar turning out a dozen at a time.

There’s nothing too terribly difficult about eating an oyster. My dad subscribes to the “sauce, slurp, and sip” method of stabbing an oyster for a quick plunge in his spicy sauce cauldron and swallowing it whole with a beer chaser. I, however, went cracker-style by placing an oyster on a saltine with a spoonful of sauce and placing the entire thing in my mouth. By the time I slid down the last of my dozen, they tasted pretty darn good.

Doesn’t get any fresher!

And by the end of the second dozen, I was becoming quite the expert hanging shell-for-shell with him. At that time of my life, there had been only one occasion (coming in runner-up in the Cub Scouts’ Pinewood Derby) that had impressed my father. This was the second. He would later tell me on the ride home, that when I finished off that third dozen, he knew for sure that I was his son and that he was most proud of me. I glowed. Either from the lofty praise of my proud father or the horseradish, I glowed.

Dozens of good memories of my dad.

As I look back, I can tell that day spent with my dad at Felix’s Oyster Bar was more than a platter of oysters. That day was a rite of passage of my father welcoming me into his world. Some kids learn a perfect curveball or how to rapid fire a 12-gauge at a flock of incoming geese, but I learned to lock and load three dozen oysters balanced on a barstool at nine years old.

Not too shabby.

A lifetime of memories on the half shell.

On today’s Acadiana Table, it’s all about raw oysters, and instead of a recipe, let’s have a kitchen table conversation. And I’m hoping that with your comments, we can engage in a lively discussion. With a little help from my good friend and oyster expert Jim Gossen, I’ll start it off with what I call my “rules” when it comes to eating oysters, and I’ll condense them down to seven points.

Raw Oyster Rules

1- Fresh Gulf oysters are the best.

I know that other parts of the country have tasty oysters, but being born and fed in Louisiana, I swear by the briny bivalves that come out of our Gulf of Mexico waters. Plump and not too sweet, these are technically the Atlantic species of oysters that are consistently larger than other oysters.

2- Time of year.

Oyster lore of long ago was that you only eat oysters in a month that has an “R” in it. September through April being the cooler months meant that the oysters were at their peak. With modern harvesting, processing, and cold storage, that is no longer the case. All that said, there are still many who subscribe to that belief and shun raw oysters during the heat of the summer months of July and August. I’m one of them. The real reason is that these months are the spawning season and the oysters tend to be watery and not at their tastiest.

3- Shuck ‘em to order.

Unless you are a do-it-yourself home shucker, your choice of restaurant will be important. Go to an establishment that has an honest-to-goodness stand-up oyster bar with fresh raw oysters on ice. And strike up a conversation with the oyster shuckers; they are a rich source of information. Pass on any restaurant that serves their oysters on a tray out of the back kitchen. And always tip your oyster shucker, and a recommendation from Jim is to tip him before he begins shucking; you’ll always get his best oysters and service.

4- Order up a dozen at a time.

Order one dozen oysters for yourself. Why bother with anything less? But by ordering just a dozen, you can check out the plumpness, taste the brininess, and determine if this oyster purveyor is worth his salt. Another dozen, please.

5- Get saucy.

Lots of purists scoff at sauce with their oysters, but I enjoy the spike of spice that sauce adds to the experience of eating raw oysters. While you wait for your tray of oysters, make your sauce from the usual ingredients (ketchup, horseradish, Worcestershire, hot sauce, and lemon). If they do not have an add-on you like, then feel free to ask.

6- The little fork.

The primary function of the small cocktail fork is to pull and scrape the oyster muscle from the shell if the shucker hasn’t done his job correctly (which is rare). Most experienced oyster eaters will discard the fork and simply squeeze a little lemon, a drop of hot sauce, slurp the oyster from the shell, and let it slide. The reason for this is simple: oyster liquor. The natural juice in an oyster is fresh and briny with a texture all its own. But if you are a novice, feel free to spear your oyster with the fork and drag it through the sauce and bring it to your open mouth. Either way, it works.

7- Cracker or no cracker?

Pros forgo the saltines, but most amateur oyster eaters (me included) enjoy the crunchy platform that salted cracker squares provide in staging the oyster. But by no means should you ever take out a knife and fork. No matter how large the oyster, it is supposed to be consumed whole.

And that’s that. Nothing to cook here. Pull up a stool, pop open a cold one, and order up a dozen raw. And make a few memories on the half shell.

Thanks, Dad.

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Comments

I shied away from oysters, raw, cooked, any way all my life. My Mother would have gagged at the thought; I just had it ingrained that they were nasty.
But, fast forward to 2009, a week-long vacation by myself to New Orleans. Went into Bubba Gump’s on Decatur. I had my very first oyster; I was 45.
Do I need to say that I’m an oyster fanatic now? Favorite place is Casamento’s now, but I will pretty much eat them at any place in NOLA.
Unfortunately, I’m stuck in Texas, so I only get 3 weeks a year down there now. But, they are the very first things I head for, whether it’s a Domelise’s poboy, or a few dozen grilled, or more than a few dozen raw, I’m in heaven. As for sauce? I do the ketchup, Blue Plate, horseradish, Crystal hot sauce and lemon. I also stay away from eating them in the warmer months. Wives tale or not, why chance it?

Hey Laurie – Thanks for recapping your oyster epiphany for us. I love Casamento’s, too; be sure to check out my Fried Oyster Loaf story and recipe that showcases Casamento’s. As for Houston, there are lots of great oyster bars in Houston; check out Liberty Kitchen and Oysterette where they serve Gulf oysters just like Louisiana. Happy slurping!

I love oysters anyway I can get them. I worked as a Catholic school principal in Gretna and loved those plump oysters. I’m retired here in the Houston area and will definitely try your suggestion. Oyster shucking is indeed an art form.

Hey Mary – Fried, grilled, baked or served up raw on the half shell, oysters are my favorite of all the Gulf seafood. Another great oyster dish is bisque; follow this link to read a story and recipe for Oyster Voisin Bisque topped with puff pastry. It is an amazing dish with the full flavor of oysters.

Great story ~ I also have the same great memories with my Dad sitting with a sack on our back patio, him shucking with me waiting on each one at 8yrs old. Through the years, I have eaten them in any way possible but love them raw the best. I do live in south Louisiana and will definitely have to go try Felix’s now. Thanks for sharing this wonderful story. God Bless

George, If I want raw oysters I LOVE Chime’s in Baton Rouge or Don’s Seafood in Gonzales. The best sacks that I get to shuck ourselves are at Tony’s Seafood in Baton Rouge. Best Charbroiled are at On The Half Shell in Prairieville.

George, I think I’m a little older than you are (b. 1946), but I remember your family’s restaurants. I grew up in Bogalusa (until I was 6), on the family farm at Pine (until I was 14), and in Franklinton (until I graduated from high school). I live in Maryland, on the Chesapeake Bay. Other than my family, the thing I love most about Louisiana is the food. We have some great oysters here, but I still think Felix’s are the best. My dad, too, was an oyster aficionado. And he taught me that the best way to eat them was fresh and raw. His sauce was like yours, and so is mine (I like mine a little hotter than he did). And, as far as the seven rules, I subscribe to them as well. My two daughters and their husbands have heard all those principles from me many times. The one seafood delicacy I think Maryland has over Louisiana is crabs: Up here we steam them live, with local seasonings called “Old Bay,” or “J. O.’s,” and I think they are better than the boiled Louisiana versions. My wife and I are having oysters for dinner tonight! Thanks for your recipes and your stories. I love them. (PS, I’ve purchased some of your wife’s roux, too, and feel a gumbo coming on soon).

Hey Wilton – Great to hear from an ex-pat Washington Parish boy living on the Chesapeake Bay. Corkern is a familiar name around Bogalusa, and I hope you get back now and again for a Louisiana oyster fix. As for Maryland crabs, you are correct in the quality, and in fact, the species (Blue Crabs) are one and the same. Additionally, I know plenty of crab processors here in Louisiana that ship a large portion of their harvest from Louisiana waters to the Maryland markets where they get a better price. So guess what–you just might be eating Louisiana crabs after all. I too love Old Bay and use it in many dishes, but my crab boil pot will always have plenty of Zatarain’s in it–it’s a local thing, you know. Thanks for the great comment and let us know when you cook that gumbo made with Rox’s Roux. The best to you.

Yes, I know, lots of local restaurants serve Louisiana crabs. For the most part, we catch our own here at our dock. They’re fascinating creatures. If you haven’t run across it, Willie Warner’s Beautiful Swimmers is a great little book about the crabs and their lifecycle in the Chesapeake. I have lots of cousins in and around Bogalusa. My grandfather was Charlie Corkern, who had a grocery store (with my dad) on Austin St, I think, and later by himself on Superior Ave. I remember that Floyd’s and Zesto bought all their ground beef from him. Best to you, too.

Yes Wilton, I remember your grandfather’s grocery store; we shopped there. The chili buns at Floyd’s and the malts at Zesto are the ones I compare all others too. Great times; great memories. Thanks for joining in the conversation and be sure to enter your email and subscribe (it’s free) and comment on future stories.

I enjoyed your article on oysters and the ten rules of eating raw oysters. Your father sounds like a delightful man. Your article gave me an evie for oyster so I decided tonight we will go to Abbeville to eat raw oysters! I recently bought 2 large cast iron plates to grill oysters on the barbecue pit. I would love to read your recipes On this and think it would be a great article. Also I love your book and find it makes a much appreciated gift. Also I love your emails. Thanks!

Marilyn – What a great comment and I am so glad I motivated you to head to Abbeville tonight. In fact, Abbeville, Louisiana is world-known for their oysters and there are several excellent raw bars there bringing in fresh Gulf oysters daily. One of my favorites is Shucks and to fulfill your baked oyster wishes, I am sharing my story and recipe for their famous Oysters Supreme. Eat a dozen for me!

So wild to see Bogalusa mentioned in any blog post at all! Does his cafe still exist? I live in Bush and drive those roads you mention all of the time. Also love oysters, too. Do you have any recommendations for places on the Northshore?

Hey Christine- Great to hear from you, but I am sad to say my father’s Acme Cafe in Bogalusa and my brother Jackie’s Graham’s Cafe both closed many years ago. But like my oyster memories, those two restaurants have made lots of great memories for many who have lived in the area. And to answer your question: Northshore has some terrific oyster bars: Buster’s Place and Acme Oyster House–both in Covington–are just a couple. Anyone else have any other suggestions for tasty oyster bars on the Northshore?

My Mother took me to Felix’s in the 1950’s. We would make a special trip from North Louisiana, and my earliest memories are being too little to reach the bar from the stool. I laughed about your rule for drinking the oyster juice; my Mother called it liquor and I always got the last drop, even when others made fun of me!

I eat oysters twice a month at least nine months out of the year. Being from Bogalusa, I was a fan of Acme Oyster House in New Orleans for many years. However, I cannot find many stand-up oyster bars any more. My last encounter was Blacks in Abbeville, but they are long gone and out of business. Drago’s, Fezzo’s, Louisiana Half Shell, Uncle T in Scott, and my favorite two places, SCHUCKS and DUPUY’S in Abbeville serve them out of the back kitchen on trays. I would love to have a shucker relationship.

On another note, I find some restaurants are removing the oyster from the shell and washing them and placing them back in the shell before serving. Yuk
Also, some restaurants are using technology to remove all bacteria on the oyster before serving.
What are your thoughts on this?

Hey Kioke- Gotta love a foodie looking for a “shucker relationship.” And you are right about the steady stream of trays full of raw oysters coming out of the back kitchens across Acadiana. It’s time to stand up for our rights and insist that someone raise the bar on oysters that we can belly up to. But in defense of most all of the first-rate spots you mentioned, these are top-notch purveyors who specialize in oysters with a huge volume consumed everyday, which points to freshness and a steady supply of oysters from coastal waters.
One spot you did not mention which is on my Top 10 Acadiana oyster spots is Don’s Seafood (4309 Johnston St, Lafayette, LA). Along with their famous Jacked Up Oysters, they do have a raw bar counter where they will shuck to order as you sit at the counter. Anyone else want to weigh on this with any other recommendations for my good friend Kioke?

Oysters actually changed my life. In 1987 or thereabouts, I blew into Biloxi, Mississippi, for a job interview. Pre-internet, I had no clue I’d plopped myself down on the Coast in the middle of Hurricane Florence. I’d never been to a place where the cars left wakes. But a beacon attracted me through the downpour: a sign that said Shrimp Boat/Catch of the Day: 25 cent oysters on the half shell. I stopped in for a few dozen, then I accepted the job and ate there about five days a week until 1992-93, when casinos snapped it up. I still miss it.

Hey Louise – Lots of great oyster restaurants along the Mississippi Gulf Coast; I recently had a top quality dozen in downtown Bay St. Louis. One of my recollections is a place called Baricev’s, a seafood joint built right on the Gulf that served some of the best oysters in its day. That was in the days before Hurricane Camille leveled the Coast, and it has long since closed its doors. Anyone else out there have memories of great oysters on the Coast?

Great Story and Comments… Not from Louisiana, but Texas 30 miles from Galveston. Since urbanization has moved into that area, trips to Matagorda are more frequent. Raw, Fried, and my style: “Oyster Stew”… Never really cared for them in Gumbo…Thanks.

Hey Pat – Great to hear from my friends to the West; you’ve got lots of good oysters along the Texas coast, Houston too. As for oysters in gumbo, I too have a problem. On the one hand, I love the flavor they bring (along with their liquor) to a well-made seafood gumbo, but they always seem to shrivel up, overcook and get lost in the pot. I adhere to the rule of adding them in the final stages of cooking, but they still seem to be an afterthought among the crab and shrimp. Like you, I prefer to use them where they shine as the main attraction.

George, My dad, like yours, introduced me to the Holy Grail of oysters on the half shell when I was a young lad. I love them any way you fix ‘em, but on the half shell is always tops! BTW, Rox’s Roux is a staple in my house now!

Later, much later in life, I heard this reason about when to/when not to eat oysters and it seems to make sense. Not to say there aren’t other reasons, [spawning season], in the decision. So when there is a lot of rainfall and that empties into brackish bays, the salinity is reduced allowing more bacteria growth as compared to periods of normal/less rainfall.

Mickety- That is an interesting theory and one that seems to hold water (pun intended). That said, oysters are resilient bi-valves with a filtering system that works to keep them healthy even with the steady flow of Mississippi River muck and mud that continuously flows into our Gulf headwaters. I’m sure there are some marine biologist types out there that can weigh in on this subject with clarity. Anyone?

Having grown up in Central (Oakdale/Elizabeth) and South Louisiana (Raceland/Metairie/Slidell) as a child and later as an adult, I don’t really remember the very first oysters I ate, but I do know I have always loved them–especially raw. No trip back to New Orleans is ever complete unless I get my fill of oyster po-boys and a dozen raw, here or there. I have never eaten 3 dozen but that sounds like heaven right now. I live near Dallas, TX and alas, my oyster addiction has probably taken me to places I should not have gone (without consequences though). I have lived dangerously by eating oysters on the half shell from my local Chinese Buffet restaurant and I once ate some raw from a plastic packaged container from my local grocer (they were packed in LA.) I guess I was really desperate at the time. Fear not, I must have an iron stomach. Thanks for reminding me how much I miss oysters, and now I will have to wait until September to return home. Yes, I grew up with the “r” month reminders.

Hey Sandi- I have to say that the Chinese buffet would be the absolute last place I would indulge in raw oysters, but many of us understand the lengths you’ll go to satisfy a craving that borders on obsession. There have to be some solid oyster purveyors in Big D, if not, Southwest Airlines has a direct flight to NOLA everyday. All the best, and please stay away from the buffet.

We love Felix’s! I haven’t acquired a taste for raw yet but they have the best char broiled ones I’ve tasted in NOLA! They also have some flash fried and tossed in buffalo sauce that are out of this world!

My parents were originally from New Orleans, but I grew up in Lafayette. Yes, I am familiar with all the “goodie” restaurants in the city! Felix’s is great, and I can remember my great-aunt (who lived uptown on Octavia St.) always taking me to Casamento’s on Magazine. I have introduced my daughter and grand daughters to Casamento’s—great place to get the oysters!

I have enjoyed trying many of your recipes; haven’t gotten a bad one yet!! My son lives in Ft. Collins, CO, and I have gotten him onto your website; he’s trying your recipes also! Thanks so much!!

RoseMarie- I love Casamento’s as well; it is a must-stop for oysters when on Magazine St. And thanks for spreading the gospel of Cajun and Creole cooking to Ft. Collins, CO; I look forward to hearing from your son about his Cajun cooking adventures high in the Rockies.

We are sort of famous in our Florida winter community for our “oyster parties”! My husband was born and raised in New Orleans and we are very fussy and creative about our oysters and their presentation and recipes. I love your cookbook, articles and this site!

Hey Gail – My favorite two words: Oyster and Party. You are the kind of neighbor everyone wants living next door to. Like you, I’ve found that the quickest way to make friends is through their stomach. Can’t wait to hear what you are cooking from the cookbook; keep in touch with the comments. All the best to my Florida friend.

In 1975, 2nd pregnancy and craving oysters any way but raw, I was introduced to Oysters Mosca. (Mosca’s Restaurant on the New Orleans Westbank.) I wanted it everyday, my husband had to learn how to make it. Still love it, and my son turned out to be a big time oyster eater.
I craved strawberries during my first pregnancy and now my daughter loves them. Craved chocolate milk for my third pregnancy and now my daughter loves it. Bogalusa is home and have eaten at the Acme Cafe and Graham’s many, many times. Miss them both.

Hey Bobbie- Great to hear from a fellow Bogalusan. I have a bucket list of Louisiana restaurants that I want to dine, and Mosca’s on the Westbank is one of them. It’s an old-school Sicilian kitchen with classic renditions of New Orleans favorites like their eponymous oyster dish. Thanks for reminding me. All the best.

Raised in Maryland with the bounty of Chesapeake Bay seafood as a backdrop, I naturally gravitated to oysters in any form. In my family, we had Oyster Stew, Oyster Fritters, Angels on Horseback, Fried Oysters, Oyster Pie, and, of course, the fabulous Oysters On The Halfshell, all prepared from oysters shucked at home and served on the same day that they arrived at the dock.
I was four years old, it was Sunday, and my family was in the kitchen shucking a sack of oysters that my father had brought home that day from the Eastern Shore. The Vaughn Monroe Program was on the radio and I was in the living room playing with my electric trains which had been set up the day before. At 1PM the program was interrupted with the announcement of the Japanese Attack on Pearl Harbor. December 7, 1941. Everyone remembers the day, but I also remember the meal that night, somber but reverent, and the fried oysters were unforgettable as well.
Through the years until 1957, when I left MD, oysters in any form were a major feature on our table from September through April. Christmas was an especially bountiful season because it always featured several meals centered around Smithfield Ham and Oyster Stew, served buffet style with generous helpings of George Washington’s Eggnog to wash it down.
When Geroge mentioned his bonding experience with his father over raw oysters it recalled a significant moment in my own life. The year was 1980 and I had combined a Police Conference in Phoenix with a three-week cross-country camping tour with my whole family. We visited all of the major attractions but I had planned New Orleans as the last and biggest stop. We camped in Slidell and commuted across the causeway for each day’s touring/exploring excursion.
Bourbon Street was the second half of the first day, and, as we were walking toward Canal Street, we passed a Bar Dining Room (could it have been Sam Wilson’s Old Place?) that was advertising 10-cent oysters. I had introduced my son (15 at the time) to oysters many years previously and he was an enthusiastic consumer of the delicacy; my wife and daughter were less than charmed and declined to participate.
While the female half of the family dined on hamburgers, my son and I enthusiastically dug into plate after plate of the biggest oysters I had ever seen in my life. The shucker indicated that they were a local product, probably from Lake Pontchartrain. My son and I pigged out on this bounty for well over an hour and only stopped when the female half of the family insisted that we move on. It was a Father/Son “bonding moment” that neither of us will ever forget. I think that we ate about 3 doz. each and I left a $10 tip, cheap at the price!
This was my first KNOWN encounter with the Louisiana Oyster and I was greatly impressed with both the size and flavor. I still serve Oyster Stew and Smithfield Ham at Christmas, and, whenever possible, I use those with the Louisiana label.

Thanks Jack- This is a beautifully written memory of family and food–two intersects of life that seem to weave together with the power to bind. Thanks for all that you bring to my Acadiana Table, and if our readers haven’t discovered your brilliant writing talents then they need look no further than Jack Chew’s “CHEW ON DAT” right here.
All the best, my friend.
George

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About George Graham

I’ve lived in South Louisiana for all my life. My passion is the rich culinary heritage of Cajun and Creole cooking, and in the pages of Acadiana Table, my mission is to preserve and promote our culture by bringing you the stories and recipes that make it so unique. Read More…